


The Hart (Trust)

by blindtaleteller



Series: Platovember Prompts 2020 [8]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Gen, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Romance, Platovember, Platovember 2020, Survival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27478012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blindtaleteller/pseuds/blindtaleteller
Summary: Vanaheim.The Bartons continue their odd trek through Yggdrasil led by Loki; and thankfully out of the unforgiving Jotunheim climate. Though Vanaheim is warmer as they follow Loki to the next doorway, they very quickly discover there are other dangers in Vanaheim's woods. And even stranger, old legends still still walking the trees..
Relationships: platonic - Relationship
Series: Platovember Prompts 2020 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1999015
Kudos: 3
Collections: Loki, Platonic Relationships, Prompted Writing





	The Hart (Trust)

  * IDENTIFY LOCATION: CUYLER - INTER-DIMENSIONAL IDENTIFICATION CONFIRMED : HVRA0616-9H-14
  * \---INTER-UNIVERSAL DOORWAY ENTRY POINT H14 : OBSERVATIONAL STATUS - TVA INTERFERENCE: _OBSERVATION ACTIVITY DETECTED_
  * \----VANAHEIM : THE VANIR WILDS - VISITATION CAUTIONS _UNKNOWN_ : THE FADE
  * \------KNOWN DOMESTIC TIME VARIANCE : 2:34 AM



-=+ **The Hart** +=-

" Or it would be called, for you or _**usually** me_; or your father. There is far more to that, but the gist is the same. " Loki explained to Cooper in his usual calm tones as he led his stallion with a great deal more ease than Clint was having with his mare alongside the prince and Laura. Lila spoke up as Clint veered his lithe chestnut around another tree, pausing on the other side and snagging the low hanging maple branch to hold it up and back so Laura wouldn't have to duck before managing to fall into step again, a little closer to alongside their grey-green eyed guide.

" What's it called when it's me then? " Loki rode a horse like he was part of it; even when Clint and Laura's curious children joined him in his saddle. And regardless of how strongly the stallion had fought Clint those first few miles before they had switched, the nearly black bay was warm putty between his knees and in his hands. A glance over his shoulder without stopping, Barton caught the briefest stick of those sharp eyes on his features. " For all of us though; the journey, is still pronounced ferð. " And as was becoming common in the quiet, mostly safe spaces along their unmarked trail: the kids repeated the word, if a little sloppily in Cooper's case around the R as usual. Getting him to talk outside of the necessities was still tough for Clint and his wife; but the kids were a different story.

The more he paid attention though; which was pretty much all the time since they'd left the cave behind in Jotunheim: the more Clint realized that might be at least one part the differences in subjects. Weaving through the woods in cleaner clothes, a much warmer early fall climate, and the peace that came with the quiet of night without the threat of big-dog sized creepy _snow worms_ or nine to twelve foot tall _murder smurfs_ popping out of the banks or around the next tree was probably in their favor too. Just settling into a new, if temporary camp on the other side of that doorway had visibly loosened tension none of them except Clint had realized Loki had been carrying for the entirety of the week they had been there. Loki had slept a solid ten hours, after they were settled, new rules gone over and a new batch of food was roasting in the pot over the fire.

They traveled mostly by night, with no light to go by other than what little poked and filtered through the trees; which meant with his eyesight especially he was always leading: not that Loki leading was anything new. Sleep was starting to come into a schedule of it's own, and as Clint was marking it, came around mid-day for the adults; while the kids were harder to manage, being that Lila usually would switch seats in the latter half of the night after the first water and 'bathroom' break, and doze off tucked against Loki in the saddle: and Cooper would usually start his own tilt in front of his mom or Clint himself. That meant they were more awake during the later portions of the day, but: neither of them had broken the rules to stay close to camp or one of the adults yet.

They were the fourth night in, at this stage. Not that it counted as much when they had such a long ways to go, and had only managed the horses on the second night. Loki had wanted to nick two or three more; but when one of the herdsmen and his son had started towards that far corral he had clipped the attempt short pretty quickly. And three was enough, even if it meant they had to divide up the rest of what stuff they had and were still acquiring along the way. The horses and their tack had been the first thing on the list. Loki had insisted on this set when he'd seen their markings in the central corral; and granted, he'd been right about finding their saddles as a result too. All three were apparently bred for martial use; strong, quick and not easily spooked. Their saddles had been easy to find even for Clint when he'd sent him back to their stable; just because the marks on their flanks were likewise etched into the saddles that fit them.

Clint was used to more high tech thievery? But he had to admit it was kind of fun and a lot quicker way to equip the family than trying to make everything or tax his magic to yank something out of thin air. Loki had a particular gift for it too. The horses had been followed the very next morning by the stealthy prince making a dangerous dip into someone's cellar while Clint watched his back; and the owners were less than twenty feet away from it's open door, where he had rummaged and plundered out the extras like the bag of salt, something that passed for coffee, and a ceramic jar of dried vegetables and mushrooms they were peppering through their meals now. Which, Loki had topped off by snatching some of their targets' clothes right off the back line on his way back through.

He always left something valuable but nondescript behind, which worried Clint a little. They had yet to get caught or stopped though. And Barton had the impression that, getting caught or stopped was a lot more dangerous in some ways than misjudging the edges of the battlefields they were having to go miles and miles out of their way to avoid. Clint knew, without asking: it was probably more a danger to Loki himself being recognized, than the family at large. So did Laura, he'd wager; though they hadn't talked about it yet. The same, that debt they owed him was only getting bigger. Along with the slow crank of those dials he kept touching.

" Lo, will we be stopping soon?" from Laura reminded him they had three planned stops tonight rather than only two: and that they were taking the very scenic route through this particular bit of wood for that last reason in particular. The smell of smoke was so constant, if light; it was almost easy to forget about by that point. That, and Lila was probably getting tired; which meant handing her over to Loki was the best way to make sure they didn't have to pause later: since she now got openly cranky about being held by anyone else when she was in sleepy-head mode. " Soon. A little farther, to where the stream drops. "

" All right. I want to look around for a few more herbs while the horses rest; maybe we'll get lucky and find some more wild squash, or find another stray apple tree too. We're running low on a few things already. " Got a soft " Mm. " of agreement and nod from his dark head as they kept on. This was another thing that had been changing. As Clint had been given a space at his elbow in most things, and especially when he asked; Laura had been starting to pick up little bits of responsibility too. Watching the kids fell on all of them; hunting moving targets and slipping over or under someone's fence for dinner was his and Loki's thing. But outside of that, Laura was the one making sure they had fresher things to eat out of the wild and was learning what they could and couldn't eat along those lines to put her part in the pot too.

Knowing her own herb garden in the sun room had actually helped along those lines, as it turned out. Yesterday, they'd made a stop along a much smaller plain that had been helpful. And also made Clint wonder just how much survival knowledge Loki had stored in his head combined; from one world to the next. Though, at his apparent age.. and how well traveled he was, and why: Clint didn't have to guess that was as much out of necessity as it was the odd fact he had admitted to having a garden of his own in Asgard during that stop. He was getting more comfortable with them, slowly; and spilling little things like that now and again as a result. There was always a limit though. Especially when he noticed the questions were turning more towards him, and less about whatever subject started them off.

Cooper asked him something unintelligible even from where Clint was as the sound of moving water started to filter into their ears, and he veered that big night-brown stallion he'd claimed further south, to their left; to follow it. "Mm. It's almost all upstream, from here. " was his apparent answer. Another hundred yards, and they were stopping beneath the low shade of greener maples among the tall ones broken up by the stone and height of the short cliff between larger sections of striation jutting out of the black earth littered with the first and still glossy scattering of yellow, orange and bright red leaves. Clint was off first alongside Loki while Laura took the reigns and waited ready to bolt while they silently checked the tiny waterfall and it's stone bed from either side.

It was a quick thing, between the two of them; and Laura and the kids had their all clear signal, were climbing down and unpacking what little they would need before he and Loki were back around the western side of the short cliff themselves. Clint opened his mouth to ask a question as they half stepped and half hopped their way down the stair-step stone on the far side.

And that was when it sounded off, the first time.

The loud and almost whooping high pitched croon even at the distance from well past the cliff behind them. Everyone stopped, even the kids. And was looking to them when it was done. Clint had to look to Loki; the sound was kind of familiar.. but off enough he wasn't sure; and Lo was still listening, eyes turned back and up at the clifftop however short they had left it behind. " _..was that an anim--_ " as a question got cut off with a single digit coming up between them and had Clint listening again too. It also had him drawing an arrow from his side, when it sounded off again; much closer. Sounded a lot like an elk call. Clint had been so focused on listening and watching, that Loki nearly spooked him edging in closer to the sheer end of the stone wall to hitch himself up close against it and peer over the edge, bringing him in closer himself and motioning for Laura to get low and close to the cliff herself.

The animal; definitely did scare Barton though, when Loki's head ducked fast and it's massive size was suddenly just there and airborne over both their heads through what little clear there was between the trees: a brief view of long spindly legs and thick fur barely notable as a lighter color underneath before it was over them both and landed and away just a few feet from where Clint had been standing. He got a shot off yes; and Lila squealed, Cooper tugging her back in his peripherals in what of the moonlight was there: though as Loki had kicked out a boot to grab his elbow it had gone low and to the side before he landed to pull him back. Which, was pretty damn confusing. An animal that size would be weeks worth of food they were passing up.

Maybe more confusing that he stopped him from drawing again or pursuing with one hand; and dug around in Clint's cloak pocket for the last apple he had on him on his way to stepping forward.. and hunching down. He couldn't see what he was doing, but the snap of twig ahead and a little farther down the slight slope told everyone it wasn't gone yet. Barton came down to his haunches very much like Loki had, just as he threw most of the apple into the shade: and Clint marked the same as Laura did, that it didn't bounce, or skip, or even hit the ground as he settled; and the soft snort, and then first of a series of crunches started in, in tune with the quieter version of it coming from their guide and new family member. He ended up raising another arrow as the legs and it's chest half turned their way came into Clint's sight under the edge of the canopy again; stopped, again, by Loki: this time a hand closing around the arrowhead firmly and pulling it down.

The animal took off, then. Or at least by a few yards out of their sight, a brief flash of unidentified but clearly silvery metal along it's huge cloven hooves he'd missed before giving Clint what he thought was some idea why. Not only was it actually probably way too big an elk cousin for them to handle, but the metal implied it was owned by someone; if currently loose. Or so Clint thought, while it was likely marking whatever tree it was rubbing it's horns at farther off; from the sounds of it. Loki didn't let go of his arrow or look away until it was gone again; and when he did and snatched Clint's wrist instead to pull him the rest of the way back to Laura and the kids. That was when he noticed their expressions, getting closer in.

Especially Loki's, when Laura immediately asked on something more awe than the odd fear he had pegged it as in the dark. " ..what _was_ _that?_ " getting the answer of " Something _incredibly,_ almost _horrifyingly **rare**_ and -- " turned to Clint again, pushing briefly at the bow in his hand. It was, one of two times he could say he recognized shock and real surprise on those chiseled features. " -- ** _never_** to be hunted, with sharp things. _Or at all,_ with supper in mind. If you see a large deer in fact; do not shoot it without asking me first. That's _not just_ bad bloody luck; it's _a sacrilege_ I'd disown and curse you on the spot for. "

Which was curious enough before he'd grabbed the mostly empty little basket they had been carrying the extra apples in and dumped them into one of the empty sacks to step off and say " I'll be back; I've a feeling we've a fair trade in progress. " to make it even weirder. As did Lila's question once he was out of sight, while Laura was starting a small fire to boil their water with; his daughter's eyes wide looking up at him when she asked " Daddy, how come _our_ deers at _home_ don't have metal horns? " pulling his brows high, a little shot of strangeness up his spine recalling Loki's words in particular when the question " Are they _all_ white like that here, too..? " followed it up from her curious little mind.

When he came back, he came back with a whole basket full of near ripe pears, and a few odd plums. Clint wasn't sure if he wanted to ask; but the huge broken, rubbed raw and clearly kicked green plum branch still bearing fruit that he was _almost_ failing at balancing above the forest floor and flat stone back to their pit stop certainly did raise a lot of questions. 

~-==+==-~

They'd come up close over the past few nights, following along.

But not nearly so close as they were now, just a few yards from being side by side with the horses. Almost always on their left, to the south. Dipping closer, or pausing to wait behind to snatch up what fruit or vegetable leavings like the wild carrot tops the kids refused to eat and Loki didn't' snatch for himself to chew on along the now lack of a trail through the much taller trees. If not for the ivory tinge of travel and age to the majority of the bull's coat, and the occasional glint from his silver-tipped horns and rubbed hooves; he might have blended all the better into the tall, thick bleached bone white of the birches that were slowly bleeding into their surroundings the farther west and north they cut around the latter half of the battlefield they were still skirting.

Loki had his look, at that; and taken Clint with him to peer out of the wood at the mess of it in the lower valley. What he'd seen, was not encouraging. It was for the time being, a stalemate; with the defending force on Vanaheim's side holding their line between their greater number and odd almost surreal steampunk-ish blend of horse, chariot, and futuristic looking shields peppered with a few small motorized bikes and maybe one or two larger vehicles on that side making use of the slightly higher ground, while the invading raiders had more rifles and other ranged to them but: seemed to have really shitty aim and overall range with what they did have. The Barbs, as Loki referred to the invading forces, also had some really big and really scary looking rock-folk in their ranks, too.

Before the sun had gotten to a threatening height; Clint had watched one of them take the equivalent of a cannonball to the chest, and roll right back up angry and chucking the still hot pieces right back at the middle of the Vanaheim lines that had fired it at him in the first place. Like somebody had just kind of only then pissed him off by giving him a half assed punch to the middle of his big rocky pecs. Given that he stood a good head and a half higher than the rest around him who were more human sized? That and the speed at which he did it was scary as all hell to Barton. He didn't need telling twice to run his ass off and take the fam with him if they ended up found by one of the Kronan among the Barbs in particular.

That was days ago though. And none of them were really sure whether the fact the fires had died out and the smoke was clearing behind them, was a good sign or not.

But. The Hart still following along, was a good thing; or at least seemed like it was a good sign. More so that now and again he would pause and turn his huge golden-white head with ears lifted, and call; that shrill croon and soft near whoop at the end, and his own family usually over or walking the line of the next ridge, would answer: if more quietly. Or at least, they had started out over and along the ridge. At the moment, the oddly horned doe and her still sleek and shiny snow-white pale yearling fawn were following only a good twenty to thirty feet farther out; the only tell to the baby's gender the slight scratch of gold at it's much smaller hooves, which even just climbing out of the spindly to it's youth, still marked it about the size of a regular and fully grown white tail back in Missouri.

Thinking back and watching them in glances now and then; Clint couldn't help but think he'd disown and curse himself too, if he'd managed to shoot the bull when he'd jumped their heads.

More so, for having seen how intelligent they were first hand more than once. It hadn't just been luck or animal habit marking a feeding ground, that had landed the fruit in their baskets. The pretty, graceful creatures actually had a thing for pointing out helpful and edible things. Sometimes seemingly in 'trade' like Lo had implied; and others just because they were smart enough to realize that when it came to things they couldn't reach, the humans and small jotun could climb up off of horseback if need be to get them, and at Lo's encouragement: leave a decent enough portion for the Hart to enjoy. Probably the funniest one of those had happened early in the morning yesterday, when not seeing anything in the branches, Lo had climbed a particular tree and found what he'd thought was a forgotten squirrel stash of what equated to walnuts.

After four or five handfuls though; they'd all found out it was not so forgotten, or abandoned; when the squirrel the hollowed out bit of dead trunk belonged to started throwing things at and coming at him while he'd still been elbow deep in said stash trying to find more whole nuts they could actually eat. Incidentally, it was the one time Clint had gotten to see the bull attack anything: when he gave the tree a good hard running headbutt and shake on Loki's way back down below him: and proved those shiny metal tips were definitely harder than the oak they stuck to briefly when he had yanked back, circled round and given it another go. The brief charges and ruffling snorts had been enough to spook the squirrel right into it's stash, leave huge gouges in the old bark, and give Loki an easier path down again along the branches.

Once down, Loki had just kind of stared at the Bull staring at him from his standing retreat; named it _Vinur_ , and sat right down to crack open half the nuts right then and there while the kids were picking up the rest to dust his hands off after and jump right back into the saddle to leave the Hart and his family to the opened goods.

Yeah, sometimes Clint still thought he was crazy, in moments like that. But he couldn't say he himself would have done differently after seeing the scratches and few bites the stupid squirrel thing had gotten in at his neck, hands and fingers before he'd gotten down either.

The more the hours and days went on, the more Barton found himself comparing one family, one herd to the other, too.

Or more specifically, Loki to the white Bull whose size was easily comparable to Loki's stallion.

Neither one spoke very much. Neither one ate before their company. Neither one put their head down before the rest when it came to sleep or listening and watching for danger either. Their natural grace was the same. Their speed and strength was _definitely_ comparable; and there was an almost eerie, beauty and magic to them even when they both stopped, and didn't move that still pulled at the skin along Clint's neck and dried the back of Clint's throat in inexplicable ways.

Both proud. Both skittish in their own ways.

Both, incredibly slow to trust.

But both of them were protective, and choosy with their physical affections. The Bull letting the fawn skitter and bully and pick her way between his much longer legs even where it's mother would not; or had too much of her when she was jumping about: and Loki the first to slow his stallion to trade either Cooper or the empty part of his saddle for Lila when Clint's little girl got restless, or cranky on the end of sleepy, or; just wanted more of his attention if not a near silent song, the things he only sung for her when she was tucked between his arms and under his chin.

Both of them stayed close to their families in the first hours of rest at the very least too. The Bull, Vinur; letting both huddle in close against his fluffier flanks and eat up his heat very much like Loki and where he preferred to set his own blanket down when they set up for sleep in the last chilled and frosty morning hours before they would settle in: right in the middle and first to watch and occupy the kids for the first five to six hours when they got up ahead of him and Laura.

Every day he had been seeing something new; watched and listened to them both drawing closer: let themselves both drift further into their family.

Sometimes Clint wondered. Viewed from a distance, how did they look? A trio of nearly extinct Hart, accompanying a strange family on horseback half clad in stranger white, almost blue and silver furs from another world; making a fall trek through unmarked ghost like wood even as the leaves were falling around them in red and orange drifted down in the night. Clint wasn't a superstitious man really.

But sometimes he looked at them, and thought: if I saw this in the distance I would be caught frozen and staring.

_If I saw this in the distance through the dark? A prince of stags with a wide, knived silver crown and birch leading his heir and small herd through this army of white trees, and a prince of moving, matching marble and onyx leading them along as part of his family: I would run._

_I **would** run._

_Though..._

_For all the faerie stories that end in death, and enchantment, and trickery; and all the ones men rushed into counted up from the days when I was Lila's age?_

_I understand them more. I would **run.** But...  
_

_...For all the trust they've earned and things I've seen:_

_I can **not** say in which direction, unless **he** told me._


End file.
